


New Blood

by Grotesgi



Series: Love/Hate Heartbreak [1]
Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: First Meetings, Gen, The Pits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-12-09 02:23:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20987264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grotesgi/pseuds/Grotesgi
Summary: They're new to the arena, but Megatronus thinks they might just have what it takes to make it in the Pits.





	New Blood

There was always much going on in the underbelly of the arena. Gladiators milling about, chatting with their comrades on the sidelines or leaning against the walls by themselves, walking through the gloomy corridors towards their destinations, studying the fight charts or bothering the handlers with whatever matters they wanted to discuss with them. There was activity to be found every hour of the orn.

Megatronus belonged to the sparse stream of mecha with purpose in their steps. He knew these corridors as well as the back of his servo after so many millennia fighting in the arena. The Pits were as familiar to him as he was to it. Everyone knew the name “Megatronus”, a rising champion in the Pits and nigh undefeatable. His name was tied to glory and victory.

And he had _fought _to get to that position of prestige and respect, as everyone else in the Pits also tried to do, but like most failed to do.

No, it took a special kind of fire to make it here. Most didn’t have it, as Megatronus should well know after seeing so many fail.

He could still remember his own humble beginnings too—he  _ refused _ to forget them. He had been one of the underdogs once, with nothing but his will to climb to the top and leave the endless darkness of the mines behind him.

That was him no longer, but it was important to remember.

The Pits saw new blood every once in a while. Many came from the mines like he had, hoping against reason to make it for themselves in the arena and selling themselves to the Pit masters to exchange one form of servitude for another. Some were thrown down from the upper levels, too deep in debt to have any other option than sell themselves, or barely scraping by and hoping to win the necessities by fighting against others equally desperate.

It was all a symptom of a failing society, a society that  _ failed  _ its citizens and forced them into the bloodsport and slavery for a simple chance to survive. He was far from the only one who recognized it. Here more than anywhere were minds alike his, minds tired of being made  _ worthless_, tired of being _ used_, minds ready for  _ change_. 

But change was still ways away. Before the time of it came, more would flock to the Pits, willfully, out of lack of options, or by force.

Many would find it a cruel place. When it wasn’t the Pit masters or the handlers, it despairingly often was the other gladiators taking their own helplessness and frustration out on each other. 

When he rounded the corner, that was the exact scene that greeted him. Seven gladiators, each a one he vaguely recognized, had ganged up on one smaller than any of them. He didn’t recognize the golden mech, held down by a mech on each limb, one using his valve while the other two stood above him, stroking their spikes.

And yet, the nameless newblood didn’t stop fighting. Growling, he strained against the hands and feet keeping him down, and judging by the clawmarks on some of them, he hadn’t gone down easy either.

No one dared to go near his mouth and the sharpened denta bared in open threat.

It was sickening, what they would do to one another, all stuck in the same situation and yet rather doing  _ this  _ than standing up for each other.

Well, that wasn’t going to be Megatronus. He cleared his vocalizer to announce his presence, prompting eight optics to turn in his direction. Seven engines stuttered when they recognized him, one only revved all the more angrily. 

“I suggest you all leave,” Megatronus said, letting his heavy gaze rest on each of the  _ rapists  _ in turn. “_Now_.”

Megatronus had made a name for himself. They all knew him.

Most of them feared him, too. 

The seven could have tried ganging up on him too, but they weren’t that stupid. With varying levels of reluctance but nevertheless in a hurry, they released the golden mech and tucked away their equipment before scurrying down the hallway like the  _ cowards  _ they were.

Megatronus committed each frame to memory. He had enough connections to see to it that they would have…  _ Unfortunate _ events in their futures.

The golden mech’s valve cover—at least he still  _ had  _ that—snapped back in place the moment his valve was no longer occupied by a spike and he staggered to his pedes as soon as he was released. Megatronus could just hear the swears the golden mech spat after his attackers. His optics followed them until they disappeared around the bend of the hallway; only then did he give his attention to Megatronus.

There was hate in his gaze that didn’t entirely surprise Megatronus. After an event like that, nevermind what had actually landed the mech in this Primus forsaken place, it would be difficult not to feel resentment.

Megatronus couldn’t begrudge him that. He had been there, too.

“Do you expect  _ thanks  _ for that?” the little mech asked, turning to fully face Megatronus. In all fairness, he would have been tall anywhere but in Kaon, but as it stood he barely came to the bottom of Megatronus’ chest.

Despite that, there was fire in his slitted, piercing yellow optics, and rather than keeping the distance between them or growing it, he took a step  _ towards  _ Megatronus. “To get  _ your turn?_ ‘Cause it’s not happening,” he growled.

Megatronus startled at the suggestion. “No,” he denied instantly, his own voice a snarl to match the other’s. “Of course that’s not what I want.” He couldn’t entirely fault the mech for expecting that, but that didn’t fully counteract the offense he felt either.

“So? What do you want then?” still growling, the apparently fearless little mech took  _ another  _ step towards him. Megatronus guessed he didn’t yet know who  _ Megatronus  _ was, although something gave him the feeling that even if he had known, that would’ve changed nothing.

Brave or stupid, then. Maybe both.

Woefully attractive too. As much as he hated that looks alone could call such attention on oneself, he could see why he had been targeted.

“Nothing. I want nothing,” Megatronus responded, tone firm with his honesty and refusal to even entertain the direction of thought he was being accused of.

The nameless mech’s optics only narrowed further in clear disbelief.

Not easily trusting either. Good; he might even make it here.

Their standoff was interrupted by another mech rounding the corner behind the golden one. Megatronus’ optics flicked to the newcomer despite himself, only to have a double take.

The mech’s armor was silver instead of gold, but aside from their marginally differing helm designs, the two were identical. Results of the same batch, or did it suggest a closer relation?

The silver mech was covered in the signs of interface the same as the gold one, but apparently heedless to the state of his own frame, beelined for the gold one. “You okay?” he asked from the other one, who only grunted in response.

Apparently that was enough for him, because in the next moment Megatronus was the focus of unreadable red optics. “Um… Thanks. For, you know, getting rid of them.”

_ Twins? _ That was the only explanation Megatronus could think of for the apparent psychic connection the two had for the other to know what had happened.

Unusual, but not unheard of. 

“You were off ‘facing while your brother was being… Forced?” Megatronus couldn’t help but ask, gesturing at the silver mech’s fluid splattered frame. He didn’t want to sound accusatory; it was a question borne out of simple desire to know. The twins he had met or heard of had always been fiercely protective of one another. If these two truly were brothers, they didn’t fit the form.

“They wouldn’t let me leave,” the little mech shrugged, notably not denying the relation between the two.

Megatronus felt his optical ridges hike up, but not because of that. “You were forced as well?”

Whatever he had been expecting, it wasn’t a breezy, “Can’t rape the willing!” He would have questioned how willing anyone could be if they weren’t allowed to  _ leave  _ when they wanted to, but the mech continued before he could get a word in. “You sure you don’t want anything in thanks? I don’t mind sucking you off or something. Or, you know, anything else.” He gestured along his stained frame. “Free range.”

Megatronus reeled back in horror. It was bad enough to hear the suggestion that the pair of them had both gotten forced in their own directions, worse yet to hear the silver mech be so flippant about it.

No one should have to be flippant about something like that. Megatronus didn’t feel that would have been the right thing to say in the situation though, and instead shook his helm vehemently. “No, I don’t want anything.” Again the golden one’s optics narrowed, but the silver mech merely seemed to deflate.

Megatronus couldn’t tell if it was relief or disappointment. He  _ hoped  _ it was the former. “Oh. Well, thanks, then. You’ll accept that much, won’t you? Come on.” The last words were said much more softly, and the silver mech grabbed his brother by the arm and led him down the hallway. Sharp yellow optics lingered on Megatronus for a moment longer before the gold one let himself get pulled along.

Megatronus was left standing in the empty corridor.

* * *

As brief as their meeting was, the two were stuck on Megatronus’ mind afterwards. Perhaps it was the nature of their chance encounter or the bold challenge the little golden mech had presented despite what had happened to him only seconds prior; perhaps it was the quiet peculiarity of the silver one, their simple attractiveness, or the rarity of  _ twins_. 

Whatever the reason, noble or selfish, he found himself asking around, seeking information about them. As he suspected, they were newcomers and few had met them, even fewer had talked to them, and no one seemed to know what the circumstances of their arrival were—but everyone who had seen them fight said this: they had potential.

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe were their names. Armed with that knowledge, Megatronus took note of their next matches and on time made his way over to the arena gates to observe.

Sunstreaker, the gold one, fought first. It was clear from his every movement that he lacked experience and knowledge and fought primarily on instinct, but that instinct was  _ good_. He held his own against his opponent—that, granted, was barely more experienced than he was—impatience and unbridled brutality rolled into one. 

The latter surprised him. Most new fighters shied away from the violence and bloodshed. It took time to learn to  _ harm  _ others without letting it get to you.

This didn’t seem to be true to Sunstreaker. Despite having been in the Pits scant weeks, he attacked without hesitation and seemed to  _ revel  _ in every injury he caused. Megatronus pegged him a budding sadist, or else someone who liked to exert their control over others.

Sunstreaker won his match.

Sideswipe’s fight took place a few days later, and again Megatronus found himself at the gates, watching the silver mech go against someone nearly twice his size. 

Again he found himself impressed. They were diamonds in the rough, certainly, but while he hadn’t expected as much from Sideswipe after seeing Sunstreaker’s bout and the differences in the way they conducted themselves on their first meeting, the little silver mech managed to surprise him.

He had no more skill than his brother, but he was almost equally brutal, and twice as relentless. He had the sense to know he had to rely on his speed and agility against an opponent so much bigger than him, and Megatronus didn’t see him let up his attack even once. His opponent was given no room to breathe, no room to gather his bearings.

It wasn’t enough to secure Sideswipe’s victory, but his loss didn’t come easy, and the crowd  _ loved  _ the effort he made.

They were newblood and no threat to anyone who knew what they were doing, but their latent talent was clear. Whatever had landed the two into the belly of Cybertron, they might just make it.

And if Megatronus was interested before, he was thrice so now.   
  
  


* * *

  
  
In a place the size of the arena, it could be difficult to find who you were looking for unless you had their comm. frequency and could simply call them and ask where they were. 

As it happened, Megatronus did not have either twin’s comm. frequency and had to rely on hearsay to find out where the brothers spent their time. They seemed to stick to no routine, which was likely  _ wisest  _ when there were bound to be mecha who would try to seek them out for less than desirable purposes. Unfortunately it also meant Megatronus’ task was made significantly more difficult. Every new mech he asked could only point him to a cold trail, and after the first couple of days, he was sure the twins had heard of someone looking for them and were going out of their way to be even harder to find.

Someone else might have given up after the second week of trying to run into them in between his own practice, matches and other downtime activities, but Megatronus wasn’t known to quit when he set his mind on something. Those two could be as evasive as they wanted to, but he  _ would  _ find them sooner or later. That he had decided on it meant it would happen.

He would see to it.

Halfway towards the third week of his search he finally entered the training room another gladiator had pointed him to to find the pair of them sparring barehanded in the open area in the middle.

It was painfully clear they had no idea what they were doing and were pulling their punches to avoid injuring each other too severely. Frustration was written all over the golden mech’s faceplates, and there was dissatisfaction in the silver one’s expression as well.

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, respectively.

Sideswipe noticed him first, red optics flicking up to him. On some unseen and unheard cue both of them left their—wholly inadequate—fighting stances and turned to fully face him. “It’s you,” Sideswipe said as he circled around his brother to approach Megatronus.

He halted well out of grabbing distance, Megatronus noted.

“Did you change your mind?” the silver mech continued. 

“About what?” Megatronus asked.

“About the thanks.” Sideswipe shrugged. “Our quarters aren’t far away if you want some privacy.”

_ This still? _ Megatronus kept his expression neutral when he spoke his denial for the second time. “No, I still don’t want that from you.”

“Then  _ what  _ do you want?” Sunstreaker spoke up, voice like a whiplash.

Megatronus aimed a glare in the smaller mech’s direction, but Sunstreaker merely scowled back, as uncowed as he had been on their first meeting. Good, at least that hadn’t changed.

“I saw you fight,” Megatronus went on to say, straight to the point. He doubted Sunstreaker would have the patience to hear out anything that wasn’t as curt as possible. “You have potential. I came here to offer to train you.”

Silence met his declaration. Sunstreaker’s optical ridges were high enough to have disappeared under the trim of his helmet, but Megatronus couldn’t tell whether Sideswipe felt surprise as his brother seemed to. Not a cog in the silver mech had twitched as he gazed at Megatronus.

It was Sunstreaker who spoke up first. “_Why?_”

He had no time to even begin to answer before Sideswipe continued on the heels of his twin’s question. “We know who you are. Do now, anyway. You’re one of the rising champions, the best fighters the Pits have to offer.”

“Why would you spend your time on us?” Sunstreaker took his turn to speak, his words rolling after Sideswipe’s as naturally as if he’d spoken everything himself.

_ Twins. _

“As I said, you have potential,” Megatronus repeated. “Potential I would hate to see go to waste. I believe that with the right tutelage you can reach far.”

“And  _ you  _ want to provide that tutelage?” Sunstreaker asked,  _ venomous_.

“We accept,” said Sideswipe. Megatronus wasn’t the only one who glanced at the silver mech in surprise, although he was the only one who did so without anger. “What in the pit are you doing-” Sunstreaker started, but Sideswipe paid him no heed.

The silver mech took another step towards Megatronus. “No one else has offered, and we’re sooner to off ourselves than get anywhere on our own,” he spoke, and though Sideswipe was looking at him, Megatronus got the feeling the words were directed at Sunstreaker.

At least one of them wasn’t a fool, then. Sunstreaker growled, but said nothing, which Megatronus took as the golden mech’s acquiescence. Sideswipe seemed to accept it as such too, because his careful expression turned into a smile. “When do we start?”


End file.
